


Ghost From the Past

by marashin0



Series: Obi-Wan & Palpatine Father-Son AU [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Manipulative Relationship, Obi-Wan Kenobi Leaves the Jedi Order, Past Child Abuse, Qui-Gon Jinn Bashing, Sith AU, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith family, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, from a certain point of view, palpatine tells the truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marashin0/pseuds/marashin0
Summary: After leaving the Order, Obi-Wan Kenobi is faced with his past failures as a Jedi. Palpatine continues to poison the boy's mind, and Obi-Wan's loyalty is put to the test when a dark family secret is finally revealed.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Sheev Palpatine, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Siri Tachi
Series: Obi-Wan & Palpatine Father-Son AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945213
Comments: 21
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case you don’t want to read the previous entries, here’s a quick rundown: Obi is Palpatine's biological son in this AU. He left the Order after failing his Trials, and has since moved in with his father. He knows his father is Force-sensitive, and Palpatine has promised to train him, but as of now he is still unaware of his Sith heritage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now living on Naboo, Obi-Wan runs into an old friend at a party.

Obi-Wan’s first task was to assemble his lightsaber - he couldn’t begin his training without it - but not all of the parts were readily available, and some were quite difficult to come by, especially in the quaint market places of Theed.

In the meantime, the senator had given him a Jedi holocron to study from.

Obi-Wan had never seen a holocron before. As far as he knew, they were all sealed deep within the Jedi Archives, in the vaults, accessible only to Council members. But it seemed this was not the case, for the senator had many such artifacts in his possession - forbidden Jedi texts and so on - much of which would have been lost had Palpatine not used his own wealth to finance various archaeological expeditions. By his own admission, he was particularly interested in the teachings of the exiled Jedi Master Kreia, along with other nameless Jedi who had either left the Order or been expelled for one reason or another, and he had made it his personal mission to find and preserve their ancient wisdom.

“This knowledge is strictly forbidden.” The senator was nervously pacing the carpet, wringing his hands as he spoke. “If the Jedi ever found out I was in possession of such a holocron-“

“I won’t tell them,” Obi-Wan said, reassuringly. They’d had this conversation many times before, but Palpatine seemed anxious tonight.

They were due to attend a party at the Russo Estate, where Obi-Wan would be introduced to the nobility, many of whom were his distant cousins. Russo himself was one of Palpatine’s chief political rivals in Theed - they, too, were related by blood - but the senator hardly paid him any mind. He was much more concerned about the Jedi who were rumored to be in attendance.

Obi-Wan was slightly apprehensive as well. He hadn’t spoken to a single Jedi since leaving the Order, and he was inclined to keep it that way.

“I still don’t understand why they were even invited,” he said, fixing his cravat in the mirror. There was a distracted look on his face. What business did the Jedi have on Naboo? A Mid Rim planet of little consequence. As his father so often pointed out, the Jedi rarely ventured outside the Core, leaving the rest of the galaxy to fend for itself.

The senator appeared over his shoulder. He reached out to brush a spec of dust from Obi-Wan’s sleeve, then said, “This is privileged information, but I hear tell that Russo is getting paranoid in his old age. He was involved in a speeder accident a few weeks back, and he suspects foul play. He also claims to have received death threats-“

“Death threats?”

Palpatine shrugged, as if he didn’t particularly care one way or the other. “Hardly surprising. Russo is corrupt, and he has a number of disreputable allies. Perhaps he ran afoul of one of his ‘friends’. The Jedi are here at his discretion, I imagine. For protection.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “If Russo is corrupt, why are the Jedi protecting him?”

The senator’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Because he’s friendly with the Chancellor, and you know how it is." His voice was a cynical drawl. “The Republic is rotten to the core. The Jedi may not be corrupt themselves, but they have become an accessory to corruption. They serve men like Russo, while turning a blind eye to slavery in the Outer Rim. But enough of this depressing talk," he said, stepping back to appraise Obi-Wan in the mirror. He clapped his hands, breaking into a grin. “There. Don’t you look handsome.”

The Jedi Master’s plain, simple garb made him stand out from the glittering crowd that swirled through the vestibule and into the gilded dance hall, his dark brown robes setting him apart from the richly dressed nobility. He towered over the other guests, standing a foot taller than most, surrounded by a flock of curious onlookers. His arms were folded across his chest, a lightsaber holstered at his hip.

Obi-Wan was cutting across the floor, winding through the crowd of partygoers, when he noticed him. He stopped abruptly and stared at the man, clutching his drink in his hand. Even standing at a distance, the Jedi’s proud, bearded face was unmistakable. The sloped brow, the arched nose, the long graying hair… Here was the so-called renegade, Qui-Gon Jinn.

Jinn had been at Obi-Wan’s Trials, and he had turned the boy down with barely a glance. Obi-Wan still felt the sting of rejection. His face burned at the memory, flushing a deep red. Jinn had been the one to criticize him for his aggressive fighting style.

Obi-Wan raised his glass and took a sip of blossom wine to wash away the bitter taste in his mouth.

He was about to move along when he noticed Jinn staring at him. A breath caught in his throat - did Qui-Gon recognize him? - but the Jedi simply nodded at Obi-Wan with a look of polite detachment and then looked away. Obi-Wan went rigid. His stomach plummeted, his face paled. He no longer felt the flush of heat, only an ice-cold rage.

Passed over again, just like at the Temple.

He downed the rest of his drink and began shoving his way through the crowd, towards the balcony. He needed some fresh air.

“Obi?”

The sound of his name being called in a soft, feminine voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly, gazing in disbelief at the familiar face that greeted him.

“Siri?” He shook himself out of his daze, blinking as he took in her glowing appearance. Dressed in Jedi robes, her ashen blonde hair was pinned up in a loose bun, a padawan braid tucked behind her ear.

He stared for a moment, as if he didn’t recognize her. But, of course, she looked exactly the same. He was the one who looked different.

Her face lit up. “Look at you!” She cried, deep blue eyes sparkling with laughter. Obi-Wan ducked his head, coughing in faint embarrassment. He had become so used to living among the Naboo, he could only imagine how he must look to her, swathed in silk and brocade. Siri looked him up and down, eyeing his jeweled ear, but her smile bore no judgment. “You grew your hair out." She leaned forward, reaching out a hand to brush a stray auburn lock from his forehead. Her expression sobered. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too - you and Bant,” he added quickly, loosening his cravat; it felt very tight all of a sudden.

“I can see why you left,” Siri continued without pause. She threw out her arms and spun in a half circle, admiring the view of the ballroom. “Naboo is a beautiful planet. If I ever leave the Order, can I move in with you?”

Obi-Wan had to stop himself from blurting out something foolish. Siri was only joking. She would never leave the Order. He hurriedly changed the subject. “You’re here on Jedi business, I take it?” Feigning ignorance.

And if she was here with Qui-Gon, that could only mean one thing. Jinn had chosen Siri for a padawan.

“Yes…” she trailed off, wincing apologetically. “I’m sorry, I can’t say more. Its not that I don’t trust you-“

“You’re here because of Russo,” he said bluntly, ignoring her look of surprise. He snorted a laugh. “Do the Jedi have nothing better to do? It’s not as if he can’t afford his own security.” He glanced around the opulentballroom, rolling his eyes upwards towards the crystal chandelier.

Siri grabbed Obi-Wan by the sleeve, pulling him aside. Her voice dropped to a heated whisper. “Russo has been receiving death threats.”

Obi-Wan shook her off. “Am I supposed to care?” He leaned back against the wall, fussing with the hem of his vest. “Russo is corrupt, or did the Jedi miss that little detail?”

Siri drew back, startled by his apparent coldness. She hesitated a moment, worrying her lip. Her brow was lined with confusion, but she managed to say, “The Chancellor asked us to-“

“So you serve the Chancellor now?” He couldn’t stop himself. “I thought the Jedi were supposed to serve the will of the Force?”

Siri shot him a wry look. “You sound like Master Jinn. He didn’t want to come, but the Council insisted. You should speak to him. It sounds like the two of you have a lot in common.”

Obi-Wan’s face hardened, blue eyes darkening to a stormy gray. He turned his head to stare out the window, sneering at his own reflection in the glass. “I have nothing to say to him.” His voice was short and clipped.

Their conversation ended on that note. Siri politely made an excuse to leave, and Obi-Wan was left standing by the window, watching her vanish into the crowd. He could tell she was hurt, and he was half-tempted to chase after her and apologize, but something stopped him. He hadn’t said anything wrong.

His father came up behind him. “Lovely girl,” he said, having apparently witnessed the whole scene. There was something suggestive in his tone, but Obi-Wan ignored it.

He was slow to respond. “That was Siri,” dropping his gaze to stare into his empty wine glass. “She and I were friends at the Temple.”

The senator was astute as ever. “Were?” He regarded the boy curiously, stroking his chin. “Ah, well, things change,” he mused, letting his hand fall by his side.

“She hasn’t changed. I have.”

Palpatine’s smile widened. “For the better, I should hope.” He took Obi-Wan by the elbow, gently pulling him along. They fell into step, strolling the perimeter of the dance hall. Perhaps sensing his desire to leave, the senator draped an arm around the boy’s shoulder, steering him towards the door. Obi-Wan made it a point not to glance in Qui-Gon’s direction as they passed by.

“Can we go home now?” He muttered under his breath.

The senator bowed his head, smiling graciously. His face was a placid mask, but Obi-Wan knew him well enough by now. The presence of the Jedi made him nervous for reasons the boy still did not fully understand. “Of course.” His voice was tense. “Go and wait for me and the hall. I’ll be with you in a moment. Then we can finally leave this place.”

As soon as Obi-Wan stepped into the hall, he felt it: a faint tremble in the Force.

Something terrible was about to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to Siri being Qui-Gon's padawan: I wanted to work them both into the story and this was really the easiest/laziest way to do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine tells the truth... From a certain point of view.

Obi-Wan was in the hall when he heard a commotion from the ballroom. He turned at the sound of breaking glass and stood in place for a moment, poised and listening. Time slowed to a halt, and an eerie calm fell over the crowd, shattered by a loud, hair-rising shriek. A gasp went up, and the crowd erupted as the air ignited with sound of blaster fire.

The gilded double doors banged open, and Obi-Wan had to leap aside to avoid being trampled as stricken partygoers rushed the exit, pushing and shoving and tripping over themselves to escape, dragging their loved-ones behind them. Obi-Wan pressed against the wall. He felt a sharp pang in his chest at the sight of a young girl, her pale face splattered with blood. She reminded him of Siri.

He sprang forward without thinking, struggling to push through the throng of bodies, when he heard a familiar voice calling to him over the din of the crowd: his father’s voice. The senator practically fell into his arms, skidding around the corner. He grabbed Obi-Wan by the front of his vest and hauled him out of the way and into into a nearby coat closet with surprising strength.

“What happened?” Obi-Wan gasped. The floor shook beneath their feet as more partygoers stampeded down the narrow hall, shouting over one another in their native language.

The senator shut the door, muffling the noise from outside. He paused to catch a breath. His face was a shade paler than usual, but his voice was steady. “There was an assailant. He opened up into the crowd. Several people were shot.”

“And the Jedi? Siri? Is she alright?”

“The girl? Tending to Russo. He was down, last I saw. Unfortunately, in all the chaos, the assassin was able to escape out the widow. Jinn went after him.”

Obi-Wan started towards the door. “I should go find Siri. I may not have my lightsaber, but I can still help.”

“If you’re going to help anyone, help me,” Palpatine said, wincing. He was gripping his upper arm, and Obi-Wan suddenly noticed a dark wet stain on his shoulder.

Obi-Wan staggered back in horror. “You were shot.” He breathed sharply, inhaling the metallic scent of blood in the air. His stomach roiled, and for a moment he felt as though he might be sick. He’d seen worse injuries before, but this was his father.

The senator shook his head, his coiffed hair in disarray. “No, no-” he closed his eyes, hissing through his teeth “-only grazed.” He seemed remarkably calm given the circumstances. Calmer than Obi-Wan, at any rate. “I have a med droid at home. Just get me there.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Obi-Wan argued, clutching his comm unit in his hand. He was ready to call for help. “What if-“

“I’ll be fine.”

The ride home was short but harrowing. Palpatine was in the passenger seat, quiet and deathly still - he was in a healing trance, eyes rolled back, barely breathing - and Obi-Wan was left to navigate the dark winding roads of the Naboo countryside, barreling at top speed. He had never flown so fast in his life. He was shaking with adrenaline, drenched in sweat by the time they arrived.

Now the senator was holed up in his bedroom; the med droid was with him, while Obi-Wan listened at the door. The droid let him in after a half hour or so, chirping as it floated past Obi-Wan, into the hall.

Palpatine was sitting perched on the end of his bed, shirtless with a bandage around his left arm and a bacta pad on his shoulder. Obi-Wan gaped at the sight of him. His shoulder was tended to, but his thin torso was mangled with shiny, silver scar tissue: burn marks, puncture wounds, and even a few lightsaber gashes. One of his ribs jutted out from an old break.

The senator shifted in place when he noticed Obi-Wan staring, reaching blindly for his robe. He looked small and frail, stripped of his fine clothes. “I used to race professionally,” he said by way of explanation. “I injured myself in a speeder crash.”

“And the marks on your back?” Obi-Wan asked warily. The senator threw his robe on to cover himself, but Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of his scarred back, crisscrossed with old lash marks. “Did your father do that to you?” He pressed, taking a careful step towards the bed. Palpatine had never said anything explicitly negative about his father, but the hatred in his voice was palpable on those rare occasions he spoke about Cosinga at all. Even now, he refused to offer anything more than a short nod in answer to Obi-Wan’s question.

Obi-Wan stared at him with feverish intensity. His eyes shone brightly, burning with curiosity. He wanted to know more, but he was afraid to ask.

He finally worked up the courage after a long stretch of silence: “Why?”

Palpatine laughed in bitter amusement, shrugging his good shoulder as he tied his silk robe around his waist. “He didn’t need a reason. He hated me. That was reason enough.” He looked up, pressing his lips in a thin, bloodless smile. His eyes were dark and hooded, tracking Obi-Wan’s silent approach.

The boy sat down beside him on the bed. His face was blank, except for a small crease between his brow. “But why? How could he?” How could a father hate their own son?

The air was suddenly thick with loathing. “Because he was weak, and weakness breeds contempt,” Palpatine said, his smile morphing into a sneer. “He knew what I was - what I could do - and he hated me for it.”

Obi-Wan grunted softly, “If he was that bad, I’m glad he’s dead.” He frowned, surprised by his own words. A flush of shame crept up his neck and warmed his cheeks. Whatever else the man was, Cosinga Palpatine was still his grandfather. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I killed him.”

“What?” Obi-Wan breathed.

He stared at his father; the senator’s pale face was sunken and grey, but his eyes blazed, flashing gold. “I killed him,” glancing at Obi-Wan to gauge his reaction. When the boy said nothing, he added, “I didn’t mean to.” His voice shook with cold fury, barely a whisper, “We had an argument, and I was just so angry… He threatened to kill me…”

Obi-Wan sat very still, listening. His father’s words sounded muffled over the beating of his own heart, slow and steady, but loud in his ears. “What about the rest of your family?” He asked carefully, poised on the edge of his seat. “Did you kill them too?” His spine stiffened, growing more and more tense as the silence stretched between them. “They died in a starship crash, didn’t they?”

His father broke the heavy silence with a rasp, “ _No_. The crash was a coverup. The truth is… I killed them. I was upset, and I lost control.This was before I was properly trained. I had no knowledge of the Force. I didn’t know what I was doing. I couldn’t stop myself!”

The Force? His father had murdered his family using the Force? It seemed obvious, but that meant…

Obi-Wan lifted his head and turned to face the man beside him.His horrified expression slowly gave way to a look of morbid fascination. “You used the Dark Side?”

The senator nodded sharply, “Yes.”

Obi-Wan let out a shallow breath. His throat tightened as he tried to speak. He’d always been taught that the Dark Side was the easier path to walk, embraced only by the weak, but was it really _that_ easy? It seemed beyond belief, that a boy with no training and no knowledge of the Force could massacre his entire family in such a way.

Or was his father exceptionally powerful? He still didn’t know the man's true capabilities. The senator was always careful to keep his Force presence cloaked, and now Obi-Wan knew why: the Dark Side left a mark.

He stood up and began to pace. It occurred to him that he was stuck in a room with a man who was, by all definitions, a murder. Not just a murder, but a Dark Side user as well. The Jedi would take his father away if they ever learned the truth. They would either lock him up or kill him. Obi-Wan should feel torn, but he had already made up his mind. He could not, would not let that happen.

But he still needed answers. “You said this happened before you were trained. Who trained you?” He asked, rounding on his father. He normally tried to be respectful of his father’s privacy, but if there was ever a time to ask - to demand answers - it was now.

“My mentor…” Palpatine said, guardedly. He was tensed on the edge of the mattress, staring up at Obi-Wan with a fixed expression. He hesitated, “You met him on Coruscant,” eyeing the boy closely.

Obi-Wan thought for a second. “Hego Damask?” He never would’ve suspected the old Muun was a Force-user, but who else was there?

“The rest of these are from him.” The senator pulled his robe open across his chest to reveal the scars underneath. Obi-Wan winced at the sight of a long sliver gash that ran down the length of his torso. Palpatine smiled ruefully. “He was a brilliant teacher, albeit a harsh one. I hated him for a time. I still do. But I am also grateful for his wisdom.”

“His wisdom?”

The senator closed his robe, cinching it tight, then said, “The Magister’s knowledge of the Great Mystery far surpasses that of any living being. A true Master of the Force, he has studied all it’s aspects-“

“Including the Dark Side,” Obi-Wan interjected, folding his arms. The boy’s gaze was hard and unblinking, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

“Especially the Dark Side,” the senator intoned in a low voice. He shot Obi-Wan a warning look, lacing his hands. “If you don’t master the Dark Side, you risk becoming a slave to it. Such was the fate of the ancient Sith, many of them. I was fortunate. The Magister saved me from such a fate. Now I would do the same for you.”

“For me?” Obi-Wan bristled at the thought. “I would never fall to the Dark Side.” But even as he said this, he felt a sliver of doubt. His own father had touched the Dark Side as a young boy. Was Obi-Wan destined to do the same? Perhaps not. They’d grown up worlds apart. Obi-Wan had never been mistreated or abused… But if he’d been in his father’s place, would he have acted any differently?

There was a short, tense silence. Palpatine looked like he wanted to argue, opening and closing his mouth. “No… of course not,” he finally said, heaving a sigh. He forced a smile, grimacing slightly. “You’re a good son, Obi-Wan. I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

Obi-Wan was tempted to leave it at that. Let the senator wallow in his own self-pity. He held his tongue for a moment, then relented. “You haven’t,” dropping his shoulders as the tension drained from his body.

“No?” The senator raised a brow in faint amusement. “I killed my own father, my mother-“

“It was an accident,” Obi-Wan cried. His face flooded with color. “You said it yourself. It wasn’t your fault!”

“I doubt the Jedi would see it that way,” Palpatine observed.

“I won’t tell them,” Obi-Wan said quickly. He stared at his father in earnest. “Besides, they have no right to judge you - and neither do I.” His voice dropped to a low murmur. “I might have done the same in your place. I grew up in the Temple. I can’t imagine what it was like for you.” He did know one thing: raising a powerful Force-user in an abusive environment was bound to end in disaster.

Palpatine considered this for a moment, tilting his head. “I was not close with my mother or my siblings,” he confessed, “but I never wished them dead. I feel no guilt over my father’s death, however. If given the chance, I would do it again.” He slitted his eyes at Obi-Wan, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

Obi-Wan answered without thinking: “ _No_.” The word tore out of his throat, raw and hoarse with emotion. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I wanted to leave Palpatine’s involvement in the assassination attempt pretty vague. Did he send an assassin after his political rival? Did he purposefully get himself shot to play the victim, or was he in the wrong place at the wrong time? And subsequently, did he plan to tell Obi-Wan the “truth” about his family, or did it just play out that way? 
> 
> -Palpatine is telling a half-truth. He was abused by his father, but he’s not as innocent as he’s making himself out to be. Regardless, I think he sees Obi-Wan as a confidant. He really has no one to talk to except for Plagueis (who he’s plotting to kill).


End file.
